


In Time When The Angels Soar

by AlmarielOfSaintsEthereal4741



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Mourning, Other, this takes place either in an unnamed AU or the far future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:40:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28920723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlmarielOfSaintsEthereal4741/pseuds/AlmarielOfSaintsEthereal4741
Summary: “Your uncle, and your father used to bet on who would go gray first” She looks back at her husband sentimentally, then back at her son. “It was either me or him.”





	In Time When The Angels Soar

A breeze passed through as the man stood in front of the tomb. He opened his eyes once again as they settled on the figure resting upon the cold concrete stone. 

The peaceful being is donned in a white silk garb beneath armored silver plating. The polished armor having gone through wars multiple times has left many scrapes and scratches on the surface, but it was never enough to have erased the elegant engravings that adorned it. 

His grayed black curls, which usually was tied up in a bun, is tied up in a half bun, with the rest laying behind his forearms. The mans eyes trailed to the figures face. At a glance he seemed pale and youthful, glowing even in death, but the man could tell, through the youthful appearance that he had aged, as there were signs of faint wrinkles. 

The young man smiled wistfully taking in his father’s peaceful form. His hands rested on the hilt of the sword that he had used in battle multiple times. It was specially crafted in a rare element the blacksmith had used, with a rose engraved on the rain guard. It had been wonderfully made in time with intricate floral designs. 

The man tilts his head up as he looks up at the white sky just in time to watch a few doves pass by. His father had always loved any kind of bird, but doves were his favorite, as they represented many things, such as purity and peace. 

Peace, which his father fought so hard for, for many years. 

A breeze passes yet again, a banner flowing in the corner of his vision. He could hear footsteps coming from the stairs diagonally to his right. He blinks as he sees someone slowly appear at the edge of his vision. He looks over and he watches the woman take her final step. Once she is done, she finally looks up and they both make eye contact. 

She is adorned in a fine white dress that embraces her slender figure, which is an elegant contrast to her dark skin. Her long black locks are loose as she also wears a golden circlet atop her head.  
She looks wise, and battle worn as evident on her face. A similar look his father held. 

“How long have you been up here?” Her voice deep, graceful, and wise. 

He doesn’t answer.

Another breeze passes by as it rustles her hair. She opens her mouth, but pauses and he can tell that she is thinking of what to say. Then her eyes flick over to her husband. 

“We always wondered when he was going to go gray.”

He snorts, chuckling quietly as he shakes his head. 

The woman walks over, dress flowing behind her, and places her hand on the corner of the stone. She stands there for a moment taking in her husband and he can see the sorrow that is in her eyes. She then looks back at her son. He knows she’s trying to stay strong. 

“Your uncle, and your father used to bet on who would go gray first” She looks back at her husband sentimentally, then back at her son. “It was either me or him.” She pauses. “Guess who?”

The man answers back smiling softy as he looks down at his father. “Him.” The dark woman smiles back, strolls over to her son closing the distance as she places her left hand on his upper right arm.  
“Years of war, and stress can do that.” She replies. “but with him these things didn’t come naturally. I assumed the graying would never have happened until one day I saw a tiny streak of gray, and within a week it spread.” She glanced up at him “and then the rest was history”. She finished. 

Silence followed as they took a moment to take in the peace and quiet. They could hear the trees rustling against the breeze. 

The woman breaks the silence as she briefly squeezes her son’s arm. “Your uncle wants us to come back down. He said he’d be throwing a celebration in memory of your father. He wouldn’t start without you.” 

The man smiles as he looks down at his mom and they both hug each other. 

She pulls back placing a smile on her face. “Come, lets lower him down before we go.” 

He obliges as he leans down to pull a small lever. He stands back up in time as they both watch the stone, the resting warrior is on, lower him down into his tomb. When that’s done, the man closes the lid on the tomb. 

Wrapping an arm around her shoulder they approach the steps, stopping before they took the first step, they glance behind them once more at the tomb before they descended.

**Author's Note:**

> You guys can guess who the characters are 
> 
> also so the tomb is like Aragorns but the body is able to be lowered down by a contraption, lever. which lowers what he lays on top of. There's also a lid that closes. Just for convenience sake.
> 
> Also in this all the characters are longed lived, which is a headcanon of mine. Not as long lived as Lars, but yeah.


End file.
